


A Close Shave

by tielan



Category: NCIS
Genre: Blades, F/M, Knifeplay, Sex, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-22
Updated: 2011-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The razor strokes Tony's throat like a lover; it could kill him, but right now, it's mostly turning him on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Close Shave

**Author's Note:**

> 2010 kink_bingo square on the quest for a bingo line! This one is 'blades'. Which I maybe could have done with Ronon/Amelia, now I think about it. But Ziva just worked under the circumstances.

"Are you sure about this, Ziva?"

"Are you _un_ sure about this, Tony?"

Tony DiNozzo blows out a long breath. He trusts her with his life, with his body - even with his heart. But letting Ziva David near his throat with a sharpened razorblade?

"I'm just nervous," he says, smiling at the inquiring look on her face - a smirking challenge on her lips. "You've never seen Sweeney Todd, right? Johnny Depp? Helena Bonham Carter? Demon Barber of..." He trails off. Ziva's giving him the look of ‘This man is crazy, perhaps I should cut his throat to spare me another ramble.' Tony relaxes back into the pillows. "I'm sure. Do your worst."

Her laugh is short and fierce, but her touch is gentle as she tilts his head back, angles his cheek up to the light and starts with the first stroke.

Short, firm strokes to begin with, the edge of the blade radiating sharpness against his skin as she swipes at the bristles of his five o'clock shadow. Okay, so it's nearly midnight, and he should think twice about Ziva and sharp things near his throat, but Tony figured it would be fun. And that she probably wouldn't cut his throat. Probably.

He did make her scream before. For over a minute, slow and prolonged, her fingers leaving bruises in his buttocks, his stubble reddening her throat.

Hence the shave.

The edge of the blade strokes Tony's skin in a steel caress, only to be followed by the feathery brush of her fingers, cleaning the skin of cream and hair. She angles the blade to take the curve of his neck, and her lips part in concentration, her tongue poised pink at the edge of white teeth as she shaves him.

Lying back in bedsheets wreathed with sweat and the raw smell of sex, Tony watches her from beneath his lashes, and tries not to wriggle as her blade slides down his throat.

The pulse pounding in his ears is being echoed in his balls. Being shaved by Ziva is a very...sensuous experience.

It's the way the lamplight gleams off the silver blade, and the scent of hot towel and stringent cream. It's the cool line of metal moving down his throat, and the soft rasp as the razor scrapes at the bristles of his beard. It's the way Ziva looks at the task, not at him, focusing on the stroke and the angle, not even noticing him watching her.

It's the fact that Tony's at her mercy - well, even more than he usually is.

Over his chin, and down his throat, long and smooth around his Adam's apple, and short and brief on his upper lip. Either way, the edge of the razor strokes him, close as a lover - a weapon that could kill him but which, right now, mostly turns him on.

If he stops to think about it, it's a lot like Ziva herself. Sharp and deadly, but sensuous, too.

One weapon using another weapon to give Tony a really close shave. No wonder he has a hard-on the size of the National Monument.

He endures the hot towel aftermath and the cold-cream massage, aching under her thighs.

"Satisfied?" He asks roughly as she inspects her work with the care of a master barber, lids low over her eyes as she studies the planes of his face.

Ziva's eyes focus on him - not on his shave - and her lips curves as she lowers her face down to within nipping distance of his mouth. "Yes."

Rather than kiss her as she expects, Tony nuzzles her jaw with his new-shaven skin, and grins to feel her shiver. His hands slide up her thighs, over the line of her hipbones, up her waist to cup her breasts as he rubs the now-sensitive flesh across her throat. "And I haven't even done anything yet…"

Next morning, Ziva complains she has skin-burn on her breasts.


End file.
